“Hey,” Scruffy grunts.

  His voice snaps me out of my staring contest with the doors. I glance at him, curious.

  “Claws,” he mutters, wincing slightly as he nods toward his arm.

  I follow his gaze and freeze. My claws are fully extended, buried in his flesh. Blood leaks from the neat little punctures I’ve been unconsciously digging into his skin.

  “Oh Gods!” I gasp, releasing him instantly. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

  Arcane Regulation flares to life under my hands, the magic rushing to seal the wounds. He lets out a slow breath, the tension easing from his shoulders.

  “Sorry…” I murmur, folding my ears in shame.

  “It’s nothing,” he says. “But next time, warn an old man before mauling him.”

  The smirk tugging at his lips soothes most of the guilt roiling in my chest. Then I see his hand reaching towards my head.

  I narrow my eyes.

  He doesn’t care.

  After healing a few new scratches, I stomp towards the doors with a huff.

  It’s just as massive inside as it looks from the street, if not more. The scent of old paper and far too many herbs and flowers hit the moment I step inside. With it comes the persistent hum of countless whispered conversations and murmured prayers echoing throughout the halls.

  The sight is something else entirely, though. The space is split clean down the middle, each side different in color and structure.

  To the right is Morena’s side, full of incense and candlelight, warm and alive. Priests in white and crimson move between the wounded with practiced efficiency, their prayers gentle. Her marble statue looms over it all, robed in crimson and bone-white, arms stretched in welcome. Almost like She's inviting you in for a hug.

  On the left, Fylem’s side is colder in tone, but not unfriendly. Just more structured. The walls are bookshelves, floor to ceiling, with iron-railed ladders and rope pulleys. His Scholars rush about with a quiet urgency, carrying medical texts and bottles of alchemical… stuff. His statue stands taller than Morena's, and is carved from polished obsidian. In His hands is a deceptively simple hourglass, held sideways with equal measures of sand on each side.

  They both somehow blend together perfectly. Priests, Scholars, and Clergy rush about, giving each other supplies and books as needed, but never crossing from one side to the other.

  One of Morena's Priests approaches me and Scruffy as we enter. He breathes heavily as he half-walks, half-runs over to us, sweat pooling at his brow.

  Human Clergy

  Level 22

  “Welcome, welcome. How can the Church of Lasting Breath aid you this day?” he asks, trying and failing to hide his exhaustion.

  “I need the High Priest to heal his arm,” I say, thumbing towards Scruffy. He finally notices the missing appendage and widens his eyes slightly.

  “Ah, yes, of course. Please, follow me,” he says, turning quickly to speed towards a door towards the back, behind Morena’s statue.

  It takes a bit, and we pass by several more private treatment rooms that have even more members of the Church, but we eventually make it to another large door. He knocks on it gently, and I can hear the loud grumbling of an old man even through the wood when there’s a loud crash within.

  “Gods, damn it all! Where’s my cane!”

  Our guide gives us an apologetic look, but turns back to the door the instant it swings open.

  Human Priest

  Level ??

  The High Priest is far older than I remember. When I last met him—when he called me an 'affront to the gods'—he looked not much older than the clergyman who led us here. Now, he appears old enough to be that mans great-grandfather.

  “What now?” he snaps at our guide.

  “Your Holiness, they seek Morena’s blessing to restore this man's arm,” he says with a gesture towards Scruffy.

  The High Priest’s eyes scan over us quickly, and I can almost see the moment his greed overwhelms his apparent frustration at being disturbed.

  “Yes, yes of course! Please, come in. Thank you for bringing them to me, Acolyte,” he says, voice now pleasant and welcoming.

  The clergyman bows to the High Priest and quickly leaves, walking around us and back towards the main hall. I almost fail to keep the scowl from my face at the High Priest's personality flip.

  His office is large and opulent in every sense of the word. It’s less a workspace and more a vault with a desk in it. Artifacts, relics, and books that reek of magic crowd the room, each one carefully angled to catch the eye from his desk.

  As soon as he closes the door behinds us, he guides us to the chairs in front of his desk. On the way towards his own chair, he stumbles and curses under his breath. But my ears are sensitive.

  “Fucking Update…”

  Oh… no wonder he looks so old now.

  For a bit, I had thought him to be a different person entirely, even if I recognized his face somewhat. Now, I was certain he’s the exact same man I met all those years ago.

  Which means he must have been one of the people relying on Constitution based immortality before the Gods had it removed with the update. And he is not happy about it.

  A petty part of me feels he deserves it, but I'll admit to being relieved that he's still around to heal Scruffy.

  He settles into his chair with a sigh of relief, and rests his cane against the edge of the desk before folding his hands in front of him.

  “Now then, how do you intend to make your donation to the Church?” he asks, as if it isn’t obvious he’s trying to extort us.

  Before Scruffy can speak, I ask as innocently as I can, “What donation?”

  “Ah, of course,” he says, chuckling. “While we offer healing and aid to those in need—as is natural and expected of the faithful—there are still costs to keeping the Churches doors open to all. For services as demanding as the restoration of a limb, a donation of twenty-five gold, or something of similar value, is only to be expected.”

  The Church is funded by the Council of Tyrania. If the rumors are even close to true, they receive at least twenty percent of our nation's total tax income. Not all nations in the world do the same, but ours does.

  He knows this. I know this. Everyone knows this.

  Yet he still asks for more. And not for just a few silvers to line his pockets, but enough money to retire for years.

  Just how many people has he taken from?

  Before I can stop myself, I’m speaking over Scruffy once more.

  “What? You weren’t punished enough by the Gods for your greed? Was having your immortality stripped away not enough of a wake up call to stop being a bastard?” I say icily.

  The room falls deathly quiet as Scruffy and the High Priest both give me wide eyed looks. The High Priest's face quickly turns a shade of red I didn’t know humans could turn, then he explodes.

  “How dare you speak such blasphemy in these hallowed halls! You dare to question the will of the Gods? I have served Morena longer than you’ve drawn breath, child. I have carried Her light into the darkest pits of this world, watched over the faithful in war and famine, and stood unshaken through trials that would reduce lesser souls to ash.

  "Yet here you are, a blight upon this sanctified ground, presuming to know the price of piety? Were it not for Her boundless mercy, I would cast you from this sanctuary and let you rot in the streets like the apostates you are so eager to resemble! Your tongue drips with poison, even as She offers—”

  A new notice appears before me without my prompting, distracting me from his tirade. I knew I still had plenty to go through, but they could wait.

  This one bringing itself up, without any direction, is odd in the extreme. His voice becomes a constant buzzing in the back of my mind after I see what it is.

  Notice

  Morena, Goddess of Life and Death, and Fylem, God of Time and Eternity, have requested permission to start a vote.

  As they have already reached their maximum proposed changes for the year, it falls to the System Waker to permit or deny additional requests.

  Allow the additional proposal to go up for voting?

  Y / N

  Wait, what? Maximum changes? Also, they need my permission? What in the…

  Notice

  The ability to propose System changes has been restricted, due to repeated abuse by individuals submitting near-identical proposals to force a vote.

  All authorized voters are now limited to one proposal per year. If the System deems a subsequent request meaningfully different, they may request an exception—with approval from you, the System Waker.

  System?! You’re back! I thought you left once I was done acclimating.

  Notice

  You are the System Waker.

  As the System’s acting representative, direct communication will occasionally be required.

  This communication will not be used to aid you as it did during your acclimation to the System, but instead will aid you in understanding System management.

  Huh. Well then. I’m sure as all hells not going to deny the literal fucking Gods their right to vote, so…

  Notice

  A vote has been called for by:

  Morena, Goddess of Life and Death, and Fylem, God of Time and Eternity.

  Changes proposed:

  Faith-based Classes shall become conditional upon continued alignment with the values and virtues set forth by their associated deity.

  Should the individual fail to uphold these expectations over time, they may be stripped of their Class and associated benefits at the God’s discretion.

  This change is intended to ensure that divine gifts are not exploited by the faithless or corrupt.

  Nine “Yes” votes received from:

  Morena, Goddess of Life and Death

  Fylem, God of Time and Eternity

  Kiri, the Sixth

  Kophis Vheyra Enkarosi Taska, the Archmage of Wonders

  Bikari Laftala, the Grand Nomad

  Rurin Bronzehair, the Roastmaster

  Elyr Sig Altori Taska, the Steepmistress

  Ignisio Prideheart, the King of the Pride

  Emsala Ken, the Grand Matriarch of the Lost

  Nine “No” votes received from:

  Regulus von Bysm, the Guardian of the Pass

  Thalor Vens, the Anointed Voice

  Virella Estan, Cardinal of the Crimson Clock

  Xeshta Vohl, the Holy Spear

  Alric Oblam, the Archbishop of Gilt

  Durest Maelor, the Breath-Keeper

  Emmer Tal’Korin, the Fractured Chancellor

  Avaron, the Herald of Mercy

  Olessa Varn, the Sacred Quill

  No abstains.

  Proposal tied. System Waker input required.

  For a moment, I’m confused as to why I wasn’t asked for my own vote on the matter. Then I remember I also didn’t get to vote on my own proposal about the baths, while Morena and Fylem can vote for their own proposal.

  I can’t help but feel that I’m being singled out. Then another notice pops into view.

  Notice

  Tie detected. System Waker input required.

  As the System Waker, you may break ties in proposed System changes. This action will act as an additional vote solely for the purpose of resolving the tie.

  Would you like to break the tie?

  Y / N

  I am frozen with indecision the instant I see it. Once again, this seems like something that will upset the balance all across the world. People in the know will want to find me even more than ever, and I don’t even know who ninety percent of the voters are.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  At the same time, the implications of this are vast. Healers are already rare, and most of those that are around are members of the Church. They rely on their religious Classes to heal people.

  If they lose those Classes, countless people will go unaided.

  At the same time, it’s the right thing to do. At least, I think it is. This kind of corruption is unacceptable—even to the Gods, if their proposal is anything to go by. I don’t want to agree with them just because they are what they are… but it helps.

  With my decision made, I decide to try one more time to get Scruffy’s arm healed. I made him a promise, and I will keep it. But if the High Priest refuses again, I will most likely have to find another way.

  He never once stopped his ranting and raving at me, but now I use Hemokinesis to silence him. He immediately starts to fight my control over the mana nearest him to end the effect, but he’s outclassed by the combination of my Race, my Wisdom milestones, and my Skill.

  Tier One he may be, but he’s no Mage.

  I let out a tired sigh. It fills the now quiet room, and I almost feel embarrassed for breaking the sudden silence. When he stops trying to talk, I speak.

  “Look, I don’t like you. You don’t like me. That’s fine, we can keep it that way and I doubt either of us will lose any sleep over it. But Sc—Captain Tolsted here? He saved the city today. So please, just heal him,” I say. My weariness comes through in my voice, even though I hadn’t intended for it to.

  The High Priest's red face somehow becomes even redder as I speak, his scowl growing deeper, his wrinkles more numerous. When I finish and release my skill, he simply glares and points to the door behind us, indicating we should leave.

  I slump in my chair with disappointment. I really wanted to give Scruffy his arm back today, but I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. I couldn’t have afforded this bastard's price if I wanted to, even with my newfound wealth. I doubt a guard could either, even if he’s a captain.

  “So be it,” I say with finality.

  Then I cast my vote.

  Notice

  The System Waker has opted to break the tie.

  Proposal accepted.

  WORLD NOTICE

  Morena, Goddess of Life and Death, and Fylem, God of Time and Eternity, enact changes!

  Faith-based Classes shall become conditional upon continued alignment with the values and virtues set forth by their associated deity.

  Should the individual fail to uphold these expectations over time, they may be stripped of their Class and associated benefits at the God’s discretion.

  “What was given...”

  “… can be taken away.”

  Their voices seem to reverberate through me, the same as before only now much, much angrier. The High Priest freezes. For a moment, he doesn’t breathe. His eyes dart across his invisible notice, wide and unblinking, as if staring long enough might change what he sees.

  Then he rounds on me.

  “It’s you!” he seethes. “You’ve done this!”

  He lunges, fingers curling like claws, when one of them shatters with a brittle crack. It breaks free from his hand mid-motion, hitting the desk like a fragment of dried clay and he freezes.

  “No. No, no, I am faithful! Morena! Lady of Mercy! I’ve served your will all my life!” he shouts, voice cracking with hysteria. “The sermons, the sacraments—I’ve kept your name sacred in a city of sin! I am your voice, your vessel!”

  He drops to his knees, arms raised toward a smaller version of the statue, as if the goddess might descend into it at any moment and offer pardon. But it's tucked into a corner, barely visible past several other displays of wealth.

  Of his true priorities.

  “Please… I’ll atone. I see it now, I—I was led astray! But my heart has never left your light. Spare me! Give me a task, a trial, anything!”

  There is no reply. His body slowly collapses as he begs, his skin cracking and flaking away in rivulets of ash. First his fingers disintegrate, then a hand, then an arm.

  At last, he looks back to me. Not as an enemy, as I’d thought he would. Just as someone who might be able to save him. He knows who I am now, and begs with his eyes since his ancient voice is already gone.

  But now?

  I can’t save him from himself. Even if he deserved it.

  Which he doesn’t.

  He sees it in my eyes, and he closes his own as his face crumples with regret. He crumbles where he kneels, the last of his body folding into dust like ancient parchment. One final breath escapes as a hollow sigh before the pile scatters, leaving nothing behind at all.

  That’s when I hear the cries outside. Dozens more pleading with the gods, begging for mercy as their gifts are stripped away. Like the High Priest, they speak as if they’re owed forgiveness—like faith alone should excuse everything.

  I shake my head and look at Scruffy with regret at being unable to restore him. The look in his eyes lets me know of yet another headache. He knows who I am now too.

  “Come on, I can tell you have questions,” I say as I stand to leave.

  “You had something to do with that, didn’t you?” he asks.

  I wince. It slips out before I can even think to stop it. I don’t want to lie to him—not after everything—but I also don’t know how much truth is safe.

  “We can talk somewhere more private, just… come with me,” I say, looking over my shoulder.

  Then I open the door and walk into a sea of confusion, hoping that he’ll follow me more willingly than he did on the way here.

  The grand hall is flooded with chaos. Priests and Scholars alike crowd the statues of Morena and Fylem, pleading for a second chance. I recognize a few faces from passing through earlier, many of whom look as though they’d aged forty years.

  Though I notice a few small piles of ash throughout the space, there aren’t many. But what hurts me the most is that many of the wounded are no longer being treated. Not for lack of the remaining true Priests and Scholars trying, but because there simply isn’t enough of them left.

  I heal who I can in passing, delaying my exit significantly. But to my relief, I find Scruffy following me the entire time, even as I stop to help whoever we pass. He just stares at me though, not speaking a word.

  It takes hours, but we eventually make our way back to his office in the guard station. After ensuring nobody is around to listen, he closes the door and crashes into his desk chair, head leaned over the backrest as if he’s fallen asleep. Then he heaves the mightiest sigh I’ve ever heard before leaning forwards and giving me a steely look.

  “So, you’re the reason for all of this, then?” he says.

  I know what he means. The Update, the World Notices, the gangs gaining power, the everything.

  “Yes,” I say.

  He eyes me critically for a moment, as if searching for a lie. After finding none, he just grunts.

  “Well I’ll be damned. A little beastkin girl, the System Waker herself! Hah!” he laughs, like he’d just heard the world’s greatest joke.

  For a moment, I think he might have lost his mind with the news, but his laughter dies down not long after. He wipes away a tear and grins at me.

  “I see. Well, it’s a damned shame, but those fools at the Church probably deserved it,” he says, still stifling a chuckle.

  “So… you’re not gonna…?” I ask, trailing off.

  “What, tell everyone? Pah! Why in the name of the Gods would I want to do that? I’m no fool. Your secret is safe with me, so long as you keep doing good,” he says, waving my concerns away like they’re some kind of gnat buzzing around his head.

  I just stare at him.

  After a moment he continues, “Look, kid. You’re gettin’ shit done, but you’re too weak to be the System Waker publicly. If those in power found out, you’d be killed or worse. You ain’t ready for them yet.”

  It dawns on me then. Slowly at first, but then all at once.

  He’s protecting me again. In a different way, sure, but protecting me all the same. I toss the idea of ulterior motives around in my head for a second, but no. Not after everything I’ve seen from him these past few days.

  Maybe it’s too soon for judgment, but my gut feeling is strong. He’s just… good. The kind of man who stands where others falter just because it’s the right thing to do. Even when it costs him.

  Hells, he lost an arm to keep me safe and asked for nothing in return. Now this. The weight of my debt to him settles deep in my chest. I don’t know what to do with the gratitude and relief twisting in my gut.

  I’ve only ever felt this way once before, and that was with Cari when she forgave me.

  That thought gives me an idea.

  I rise, quietly, and walk around the desk toward his missing arm. I half expect him to wave me off, maybe bark something gruff. Instead he watches me the whole way, eyes narrow, but doesn’t stop me.

  Then, I hug him.

  It's... awkward. I’ve only ever hugged one man, and it was my father. My arms can’t even reach all the way around his shoulders, despite the missing arm.

  But I don’t care. It feels like the right thing to do. He’s not family like Cari, but he’s good people.

  He sits there, completely frozen. I don’t even think he breathes until I let go and start walking to the door. Much to my surprise, and delight, I find the tips of his ears are a bright shade of red. Any further evidence of his embarrassment is hidden by his bushy beard, but it’s enough for me to notice.

  Guess he doesn't get many hugs either.

  I grin at him as I make my way towards the door. Before opening it, I turn to ask him one more question.

  “How did they even get those Classes, if they were awful enough to lose them?”

  He coughs, starts speaking, splutters a little, then coughs again. After a few moments, he settles down, his color quickly returning to normal after taking in my question. When he speaks next, his tone is serious and filled with sympathy.

  “Because at one point, they were truly pious,” he says.

  “Oh…” I say, my smile falling as something I told myself replays in my mind.

  Remember how quickly they change.

  “Yeah,” he nods. Then with a wave, he continues, “Now, off you get. I’ve more important things to do than babysit some fussy demi-goddess.”

  I squawk at the title, rounding on him to protest until I see the shit-eating grin. My mouth twitches as I struggle to hide my own smile, and after giving him the meanest glare I can manage, I spin back around and leave with a dramatic huff.

  I smile the whole way back to Tails and Temptations. Not just because of how things ended with Scruffy, but because the clean up and repairs all across the city are going well. I didn’t find a single person on the streets, and much of the debris had either been removed or neatly stacked out of the way.

  When I step through the doors, I find that all the people they’d sheltered are now gone, meaning the Priests and guards had made it here before the World Notice made things more difficult. That gives me another measure of relief I hadn’t even realized I needed.

  Krissy, who watches from the balcony, immediately heads my way with a smile, but I can see the concern in her gaze. She gives me a quick hug, which I return with a tired sigh. It's well past midnight now, and I’d been running around town all day.

  “Nyria, could you take over? I’ll be seeing to the Mistress this evening,” she says as she expertly guides me past the reception counter and towards the stairs.

  I hadn't even seen Nyria this time, she fit in so perfectly with the scenery. She nods at Krissy, but her pout is as obvious as my tail.

  For a moment, I try to protest, unsure what Krissy’s intending, but she whispers into a twitchy ear before I can speak up.

  “Don’t worry, Emi. I remember our discussion. Let me at least take care of you how I can, okay?”

  At her words, all of my worries die in my throat. I lean into her and relax as she takes me to the baths nearest my room. For a while, she pampers me, getting me fully cleaned up and letting me melt into a sleepy mess.

  I wasn’t quite as tired as Cari was earlier today, but it's a close thing.

  Then she surprises me by taking me to one of the private rooms instead of my own bedroom. I tense for a moment, wondering if she’s planning something, especially since I’m still wrapped in just a couple of towels. But the thought vanishes before it takes hold as she gently guides me to a cushioned table.

  She gets me situated on it after taking the towels, having me lay face down in a small hole in the surface that seems purpose designed just for that. Any embarrassment I feel about being naked vanishes the moment her hands touch my back.

  For the first time ever, I get a massage. And Cari is absolutely right. Massages are the best thing in the universe.

  Her fingers press and glide through tense spots and knots I hadn’t even known I had, and I can feel the mana she channels threading gently through me. When she reaches the base of my tail, it slips inside like it belongs there, then spills out until every part of me is warm and still.

  I let out a breath as my body surrenders. No weight, no urgency… just warmth.

  Then I’m gone, lost to a dreamless sleep.

  much later (like book two or three later), and they'll be introduced more thoroughly when the time comes.

  chapter 49 now!) and get access to my rambles on lore, writing, and my general thoughts as I go through the story. I'm kinda dumb sometimes, but who knows! Maybe you'll like my rambles too?